A fight worth fighting
by McJoJo
Summary: A series of hate crimes become a little too personal for Alex, making her risk both her job and her life. When forced to work together with Casey a new relationship forms, changing Alex's life in a way she'd never thought possible. Alex/Casey Femslash.
1. Chapter 1

**I decided to finally also start writing a Alex/Casey story. (Don't worry, I'm not gonna abandon my A/O story)**

**This story is written from Alex's point of view, though I might switch between Alex and Casey further along the story. **

**This takes place in or after season 13, Alex and Casey are both ADAs.**

**This chapter might have a bit of a A/O feel, but I assure you it's gonna be Alex/Casey all the way. Just some friendship with Olivia included.**

**Please read and tell me what you think of it.**

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_'New York City - Last weekend another man was found dead on a parking lot in Manhattan. According to the Manhattan Special Victims Unit, which is currently leading the investigation, the 32-year-old victim, Mark Kenn was last seen Saturday night exiting a gay club two blocks from where his body was found. According to witnesses Kenn had been pursued by a group of young men but had ignored the homophobic comments they had shouted. Around four AM Sunday morning his body was found, stripped naked, sodomized and tortured. According to our source at the Manhattan Medical Examiner's office Kenn was left to bleed to death after the violent assault. SVU detectives have arrested a twenty-five year old male suspect, last night but are still looking for the other attackers._

_This horrific crime is one in the row of the many hate crimes that have been commited throughout entire New York City these past few months. A gang of young anti-gay fanatics has apparently been terrorizing the LGBT community, assaulting, torturing and murdering both men and women who were openly gay. _

_Two weeks ago one of the possible gang-members was arrested after the violent murder of gay-rights activist William Green. Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot is prosecuting the case and charged the twenty-three year old defendant, Ricky Jessup, with assault, unlawful imprisonment, sodomy and murder. On the question whether the NYPD or the DA's office are taking any action to find and arrest the other gang members ADA Cabot refused to comment.'_

I sighed as I put down the newspaper, took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. I was beyond exhausted and the headache that had been bugging me all day was getting worse with the minute. The endless wave of hate crimes and murders was already terrible as it was, I didn't need the press to make it even worse.

I have to admit, I am a news junkie, I read four different newspapers every day, I watch the news on three channels, I often have CNN running in the background, but dealing with journalists myself is a pain. They just don't realize that they are only making things worse. This was exactly what this gang wanted: press, fame, people to fear them. The gang and the press were feeding each other now. And to make matters worse journalists had decided to follow me and the SVU detectives around everywhere, to court, to every single crime scene, all hunting for a lead on these horrible hate crimes.

Thankfully at least Ricky Jessup had been arrested and arraigned last week and thanks to Petrovsky he was not getting out on bail. But Jessup was only the tip of the iceberg, a rookie in a gang of merciless narrow-minded bastards. Jessup's arrest had not even scared off the gang a little bit. That past week two more people had been violently tortured and murdered and only one more arrest had been made. We were not even close to catching the entire gang. Hell, we didn't even know how many people we were looking for. There was no doubt that they were going to strike again and even though I desperately wanted to, there was nothing I could do about it than to just do my job.

We had all been working around the clock for those past weeks, I had pretty much been dividing my time between my office and the 1-6 precinct, going home only every now and then to get some necessary rest and to feed my recently adopted cat Jackie (I was letting him down already). The driving back and forth between my office and the precinct had been starting to drive me crazy, especially now it had started snowing. I might be nicknamed the Ice Queen by certain co-workers, but when I have to drive through the snow I'm pretty much Princess Chickenheart, so I'd packed my laptop and case files and was now working out of the precinct.

I rubbed my neck as I reached for the case file named: Jake Fowler, the second suspect that had been arrested this week. I sighed as I poured myself another coffee, quickly swallowed two Advil and started paging through Fowler's rap sheet. Outside the sun was long gone and more snow was coming down quickly, but I knew I'd be stuck here for at least a couple of more hours.

Olivia and Amaro were going through witness statements from some of people at the gay club. They all stated that Fowler had been there shouting at Mark Kenn, but that didn't mean he was also one of the people who attacked him. Olivia yawned, I knew she hadn't gone home in three days. The only breaks she took was to have some take-out food with the rest of us or to take a nap in the crib. The rest of the detectives weren't much better off, I was pretty sure we all had thick dark circles around our eyes. Rollins groaned as she rewatched the footage of the security camera of the parking lot again, but the video quality was so crappy that you couldn't actually recognize any of the eleven attackers, it was pointless.

And to make things even worse Fowler was being represented by Roger Kessler, the one man whose sole purpose in life was to make me miserable. Right now that meant making sure repeatedly that I knew Fowler was free to go if we didn't have any concrete evidence against him within forty-eight hours. I hated to admit it, but he was right, right now everything we had against the bastard was circumstantial, there was no solid evidence that Jake Fowler was there when Mark Kenn was attacked and that he was actually one of the people doing the attacking.

I paged through the file. Fowler had been arrested three times as a teen, twice for assault once for vandalism. As a result of that he had spend two years in juvenile hall and had been forced to take anger management therapy. I guess that worked pretty well. But still none of these things proved that he actually had anything to do with these attacks.

I, again, rubbed my throbbing forehead and swallowed away the nausea which usually was the first sign that my headache was turning into a migraine. I rested my head on the desk for a second and closed my eyes, trying to will the pain away. The caffeine of the countless cups of coffee I had today was wearing off and I fell into a restless slumber.

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"Alex." I heard as someone gently shook my shoulder, I immediately jumped up and tipped over my mug of - now cold - coffee.

"Damn it!" I shouted as a big brown stain formed on my white button-down.

Olivia bit her lip trying not to laugh "Sorry about that, Alex, are you okay?"

"Yes," I answered taking the napkin Olivia handed me and frantically wiped my blouse but actually spread the stain even further.

Munch looked up from his computer screen with a smirk, "You should be able to get that out with some cold water."

"Thank you, Munch, I think I know how to do laundry myself."

"Don't be fooled, Alex," Fin interrupted "Munch is just looking for a midnight wet T-shirt show."

I gave both men a glare, I wasn't really in the mood for this. I was tired, I had a headache and on top of that I now had a wet stained blouse.

Olivia opened her locker and handed me an NYPD T-shirt and sweater. "They're clean," she assured me. I got up to take them but a wave of dizziness made me sway. I grunted as the throbbing in my head quickly increased.

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked, concerned as she grabbed my elbow and steadied me.

"Nothing, just a headache, I'll be fine."

"Maybe you should lie down in the crib for a bit."

"No, I'm fine, really, I need to review this file."

Olivia shook her head at my stubbornness "Alex, it's okay, lie down, rest for a bit, look at in a couple of hours with fresh eyes. We've got this covered.

I sighed, but a little bit of rest sounded pretty inviting, and she was right I couldn't afford to make any mistakes right now just because I was dead tired. I finally gave in and nodded. Olivia smiled, handed me the NYPD shirt and I started to walk off.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Some evidence against Fowler might help." I answered with a slight smile

"Well, we're working on that, but I was really talking about..."

"I know, thanks, but I'm fine." And I disappeared upstairs.

At the crib I quickly undressed and put on Olivia's shirt. I immediately started shivering, the crazy freezing temperatures apparently managed to get inside the building. I grabbed an extra comforter and laid down on the squeaky bed, my hands underneath my head staring through the dark at the ceiling, thinking.

I didn't want to cut a deal with either Ricky Jessup nor Jake Fowler but I needed the names of the other gang-members. With the horrific things they did to these completely innocent people just because they loved whom they loved, I couldn't help but take this personal. My mind went over the many people who had already become a victim to this horrific gang. Seventeen people so far, men and women, including a fireman, a librarian, an owner of a small grocery shop and two college students. Seventeen beautiful lives had been abruptly ended. And they were not going to stop. Someone could have been murdered right then and I was just lying in bed with a little headache. I felt guilty.

I sighed as I closed my eyes and finally gave in to the utter exhaustion.

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**I know, not really an Alex/Casey story yet, but I promise there is lots of A/C romanice, fluffiness and drama to come, don't worry, I just first need to establish the storyline a little further, I don't want to rush into it too much.**

**But please let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay, finally chapter 2 is up. I'm so sorry it took me a while to write this, I 'm going to try to write and update more regularly. This is more of a lighter chapter and maybe a little bit of a filler, but the next one will have a nice dosis of drama again. Also I'm having a bit of trouble write longer chapters, so I'll try and see if I can make them a bit longer in the future.**

Next morning Olivia woke me when the sun was already rising (or at least it was getting lighter, the sun wasn't really visible through the still falling snow). She gently shook my shoulder. It took me a while to fully wake up and realize where I was and why I was there.

"Good morning," Olivia said.

I gratefully accepted the hot strong coffee she handed me. It wasn't until then that I realized that it was already morning. I had only planned to sleep for a little while, there was still work that needed to be done. I must have been even more exhausted than I thought.

"Why didn't you wake me any earlier?" I asked Olivia in a harsher tone than I intended to. At this point I was not even close to admitting it, but the case had started to wear on me, the stress, the lack of sleep, the possibility that any moment I rested or ate, another person could get attacked, another person could get tortured and murdered.

I grimaced at my harsh tone and shot Olivia an apologetic look

"You have hardly slept in days," she answered.

"So have you." I interrupted.

"True, but you were not feeling well, I didn't want to disturb you."

"I could have..."

"I know, I know, but you needed that sleep, how are you feeling right now?"

I considered that for a moment. The nausea was gone, but the headache not completely yet. Thankfully, though, now it was just a quiet throb in the background, nothing I couldn't handle.

"Better," I answered.

"Good, well, I'll leave you so you can get dressed."

When the door shut I came out of bed. I sighed as I looked at the coffee-stained blouse. But then my eyes fell on a clean NYPD shirt and sweater lying on a chair near my bed. I smiled, not the greatest clothing for an assistant district attorney, but it would have to make do for now, at least until I'd find some time to get home to shower and get changed. I quickly got dressed and joined the detectives downstairs.

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I smiled as I saw the dedicated detectives still working, all focused on the flat screen, Rollins holding the remote.

"This is the footage of the security camera at the club," she explained.

I was surprised to see how clear the footage was, the club definitely had a high quality security system, thank God for that.

"That's Kenn," Amaro pointed as we saw a short man with dark hair exit the building. Not long after a group of young men appeared on the screen. I immediately recognized Fowler in the group. He didn't seem to be the leader, but he certainly wasn't keeping himself on the background either. It was obvious that the men were going after Mark Kenn, shouting at him, trying to provoke him. Then Kenn walked away and disappeared from the screen. Not long after that the gang followed in the same direction.

I cleared my throat "This proves that Fowler was there harrassing Mark Kenn, but that doesn't mean he also assaulted and murdered him."

"True," Rollins answered, "But then we found this footage from a street camera one block from the club." She started another video, the quality not as good as that of the club, but I still clearly recognized Kenn as he appeared on the screen, walking the sidewalk. Again, not far behind him, the group of young men appeared.

And then it happened. The footage lagged a little, but I saw three men jump Mark Kenn, knocking him to the ground and pulling him with them. At one point one of the men looked up, right in the direction of the security camera and a smile played on my face. It was Fowler, there was no doubt about that.

"Is that enough to create reasonable doubt, counselor?" Cragen asked.

I nodded, still smiling "It certainly is, I'll make work of this and make sure he'll be indicted before the end of the week.

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As I walked through the snow to the subway I forced myself not to be too happy about this. Yes, it was a victory, but yet a small one. Fowler would stay in custody and I would make sure that he'd pay for the horrible things he'd done, but he was just one person out of a gang of many. Even though we stopped Fowler and Ricky Jessup last week, the attacks would not stop until we had all of them.

When I got home I was immediately welcomed by Jackie, pressing himself against my leg. I picked him up and cuddled him.

"Miss me?" I asked him. He looked back at me, almost looking accusing.

"I know, I know," I answered "I promise it won't always be like this. It's just this case, it's driving me crazy." While saying these words it suddenly daunted to me how many times I had said the exact same words to my dates.

Sighing, I put Jackie down and filled his bowl. At first I had been reluctant to get a pet, I didn't really think I was cut out for one. But over the years the crazy hours and the even crazier things I deal with on a daily basis have kind of scared away the few friends I still had. It's the same with dates, for some reason we never get past the third or fourth date. I hate to admit it, but yes, sometimes I'm lonely. And even though Jackie is just a cat, it's nice to finally have someone to come home to, to cuddle, to talk to (even though he doesn't talk back). And that moment when I come home from work, both emotionally and physically drained, it's really nice to have someone there, even though it's just a cat, who is happy to see me.

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After a quick breakfast, a shower and getting changed I took the subway to the DA's office. With my mind already running over the evidence I rushed towards my office. I turned around a corner, not really paying attention, but then crashed into someone, pretty much tackling them. Startled I looked up and saw Casey Novak stumble backwards and fall against the wall.

"Oh my God, Casey." I immediately said as I put down my suitcase and helped her up. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention, I..."

Casey smiled "It's okay, it's not your fault, I wasn't paying attention either." I frantically started picking up the papers Casey had been holding and now were scattered all over the floor.

"Oh no" I said as I looked at the papers "I completely messed this up, they're all out of order now."

Casey laughed "Alex, It's okay, I'm not really an organized person anyway, they were out of order to begin with."

I reluctantly handed her the stack of papers, but then noticed a big scratch on her elbow.

"Oh God, I hurt you, you're bleeding." Casey looked at her elbow.

"It's nothing, just a scratch, I'll live."

"No, seriously, I have a first aid kid in my office, that's the least I can do."

"You don't have to..." but I shot her one of my famous Alex Cabot glares and she finally gave in and walked with me to my office.

I urged her to sit on my couch and grabbed the first aid kid. I got out some anti bacterial cream and applied it to her arm as gently as I could. I couldn't help but notice how warm her skin was. I was still freezing cold from the walk from the subway to the office, but Casey seemed to be perfectly fine even with these temperatures.

As I applied some more of the cream Casey flinched, "Ouch, damn it Cabot." she swore. I immediately let go of her arm and mumbled "I'm sorry."

Casey looked at my frightened face and then burst out laughing. "Relax Alex, I'm just kidding with you."

I let out my breath in relief and smiled back as I put some gauze over the scratch.

"That should do it." I said as Casey stood up. "Again, Casey, I'm so sorry."

"Alex Cabot, you worry too much, if you get this worried about everything, the weight of the world is gonna crush you." It was meant to be a joke, but the truth of those words pulled at my heart, she was so right. I always made sure I was professional and maybe a little bit icy on the outside, but Casey - someone I hardly even knew beyond a couple of 'hellos' in the halway and that once case against Connors she prosecuted many years ago – apparently saw through that immediately. I looked down, avoiding Casey's eyes.

"Here's a plan," Casey said "I know how you can make up for that little tackle."

"How?" I frowned

"Take me out for some coffee." She said, smiling.

I looked at her, to see if she was being serious. She saw my hesitation.

"Nothing fancy," she quickly said "Just two ADAs having a drink and getting our minds off work for a bit."

I bit my lip, "I don't know, Casey," I wasn't really good at small talk and being all social, so I'd tried to avoid it as much as possible. "This case right now is really keeping me busy," I offered as an excuse. "I barely have time to sleep and eat."

Casey nodded. Even though she clearly tried to hide it, I saw the disappointment in her eyes. "Maybe later then, after you kick the asses of those homophobic bastards and send them all to jail."

"Okay," I nodded, silently sighing, knowing that it probably wouldn't happen anyway.

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**Well, I'm not really satisfied with this chapter, but I didn't want to make you guys wait even longer. I should probably get a beta reader, let know if you are interested.**

**Anyway, reviews also help a lot, so please tell me what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So many reviews! I love you guys! You absolutely keep me motivated to keep on writing. **

**So here's the new chapter. Enjoy.**

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Later that day I was back at the 1-6 precinct in the observation room while Olivia and Amaro were interrogating Jake Fowler. Roger Kessler demanded a deal, Fowler was willing to give the names of some of the other gang members in exchange of getting a reasonable amount of years off his sentence. I hesitated, I wanted nothing more than to catch this gang and stop them from attacking more innocent people. But there was no way that I was going to give Fowler anything less than he deserved. And I was pretty sure Michael Cutter wouldn't let me cut the guy a deal, anyway, even if I wanted to. Fowler needed to pay for the horrible things he did for the rest of his life.

When the interrogation was finished Cragen came from his office. His face looked pale. He, too, had been working around the clock for days, he looked exhausted. He was holding his phone and the expression on his face was enough to tell that he nothing good to tell us.

"Another body has been found, a young woman, found naked on an abandoned parking lot of an old warehouse. Officers at the scene are pretty sure this is our gang again. They want our people to take a look at it. Rollins, Tutuola, I want you two on this one."

I was immediately stung by a sense of guilt. I had worked my ass off these last couple of days, but for what? We didn't stop anything, the attacks just kept coming. And because we failed at doing our jobs fast enough an innocent woman had to pay for it with her life.

If we wanted to stop these attacks than we could not afford to make any mistakes. I was not going to take any risks and let the chain of evidence be compromised. I was going to be there from beginning to end.

"I'm coming along." I said as Fin and Rollins were grabbing their stuff to leave.

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It had finally stopped snowing as we drove to the crime scene. I had to admit New York looked pretty amazing right now, the snow still crisp and white. But I knew that probably wouldn't last long. As soon as the sun would come through and more people and traffic would fill the streets, the snow would quickly turn into a muddy slushy junk. But at least for now I could enjoy the beautiful sight a little bit.

We walked around the brownstone warehouse to the old parking lot in the back. I regretted not taking my gloves with me, it was still freezing cold. I buried my frozen hands deeper into the pockets of my coat.

The terrain was completely covered with snow, a couple of bushes peaking out. It was a miracle that the Jane Doe's body had been discovered at all right now. Two kids had been out on the parking lot early this morning. When they were riding their BMXs through the snow, they'd found the frozen naked body of the woman.

We walked through a broken iron gate to some bushes at the edge of the parking lot. A uniformed officer was waiting for us.

"She's right over here," he pointed, "To be honest we don't know if it's another gang attack, but there are a lot of similarities with the other crime scenes. She's a Jane Doe for now, we didn't find any ID. I hope you have a strong stomach. It doesn't look good."

I saw Fin nod and follow the officer. I braced myself, despite the icy facade I usually kept up I still wasn't as used to the gory crime scenes as the detectives were. And still feeling not one hundred percent well I didn't want to embarrass by getting sick. I swallowed and followed the detectives quietly.

Two crime scene techs were taking pictures of the body and looking for trace evidence as we reached them.

"Oh my God," I heard Rollins react "You surely weren't kidding."

I looked at the woman, blankly stared at her for a couple of seconds, not completely registering yet. Then I suddenly felt the blood drain from my face, shock washed over me and I felt like my heart just dropped to the ground.

"Lydia," I whispered, barely audible.

My stomach started to contract, I had barely time enough to turn around and run away from the crime scene. With my back turned to the detectives I emptied the contents of my stomach on the ground. My knees gave out and kneeled in the know, dry heaving, shivering, but little pearls of sweat forming on my forehead.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked around. Fin was crouching down beside me.

"I warned you." I heard the officer comment behind me. Fin shot him a glare and then turned to me again.

"You alright?" he asked as he helped me up. I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.

Still trembling I slowly walked back to the body, dreading to look again, but I had to see, I had to know for sure.

Tears started to burn in my eyes as I looked at the woman splayed over ground before me, but I refused to let them fall. The snow around the woman was colored bright red by the blood. Her face was bruised and swollen and deep gashes and more bruises covered her entire body. There were cigarette burns on her breasts, thighs and genitals, both legs were laying in a strange angle and skin of both feet was completely torn. More blood was pooling between her thighs. I looked at the woman's brown eyes, now lifeless, staring into nothing. But I knew those eyes, I had loved them, I had stared into them many times. There was not doubt about it, it was her.

I turned back to Fin and Rollins who were quietly standing behind me, worry and confusion clear on their faces. They surely had never seen me like that before. I had never thought it would happen. I tried to hide my embarrassment.

"You don't need to run her DNA for ID," I finally said, my voice sounding stronger than I felt. Her name is Lydia Bowley, she lives,... lived in SoHo, she was an artist. Then I turned around and quietly walked around the building, back to the car. When I closed the passenger side door I finally allowed the tears to fall.

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Not long after Fin came walking to the car as well and sat down behind the wheel beside me. I quickly wiped away my tears, but I knew my eyes were still red and swollen. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the dashboard compartment and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I managed.

"So," Fin started "You know her." It wasn't a question.

I nodded as I a took a sip of the cold water. "We used to be friends, we were quite close," I wasn't ready to tell him how close that really was.

"Used to?" Fin asked

"We lost touch," I simply explained, even though the real explanation was anything but simple.

"Damn, not the way you wanna reunite with her."

I nodded.

"What do you want to do?" Fin asked.

I hesitated for a second, I knew what I was supposed to do, but there was no way I was going to step down right now and let another ADA handle this case.

"I'm want to nail the bastards who did this." I answered

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The drive back to the precinct was quiet. Rollins was sitting behind me, curiosity apparent on her face, but she didn't ask any questions, which I appreciated. I didn't feel like explaining again. I just stayed quiet, staring out the car window at the winter landscape that suddenly didn't seem so beautiful to me anymore. Every time I looked at the snow I, again, saw the image of Lydia's blood pooling out of her body coloring the snow bright red.

I sighed as I let my throbbing head lean against the cold side window.

"Look, Alex," Fin finally broke the silence, "If there's anything we can do for you, anything, just let us know, okay?"

I looked at him, gave him a hint of a smile, nodded, "Thank you, but let's just get these bastards before more people get hurt."

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That evening was the first evening in weeks I spend at home instead of my office or the precinct. I had to be away from all of that for a while, I had to think. I sat on my couch, Jackie in my lap, a glass of red wine in my hand, a half-empty bottle on the coffee table. A colorful crafty scrap book in front of me.

After we'd gotten back at precinct from the crime scene Olivia had immediately noticed something was wrong. Neither me, nor Fin and Rollins had been any cheerful. I was pretty sure I was still deadly pale and my eyes red and swollen. I had tried to avoid eye contact, but knowing Olivia, she wasn't just going to let me off that easily. I'd sighed as I started to explain, but thankfully Fin did instead.

I hated what all of this was doing to me. I had worked years to be taken seriously in this job, to keep everything as professional as possible, and there I was, nearly crying in front of the people I worked with. Olivia had pulled me into an embrace, it felt good, comforting, but I didn't make any effort to hug her back. They'd asked if I wanted to grab a bite to eat with them to get my mind off everything for a while. Even though I had completely emptied my stomach at the crime scene, I wan't hungry. Just the thought of food made my stomach cramp again. I'd quickly excused myself and said I'd be working from home the rest of the day.

I paged through the scrap book, Lydia had made it for me. She'd given it to me on my birthday, together with a nice breakfast in bed. Tears burned in my eyes as I looked at the first picture. It had been taken at a theme park, the two of us in a roller coaster, Lydia smiling brightly, holding my hand, and me, trying to smile, but clearly terrified. A tear rolled down my cheek at the memory. It had been a great day, despite the roller coaster, and it had ended in our first night of making love.

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**That's it for now. I'm sorry for not including Casey in this chapter, but she will be more a part of the story soon, I promise.**

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, I really enjoy reading all of them. So here's the next chapter.**

**Also, I still don't have a beta reader so I'm sorry if I still overlooked any typos. I'm still looking for a beta reader, so if your are interested please let me know.**

**So let's go on with the story**

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I paced into the precinct early next morning. It was unusually quiet. Apparently Cragen had send everyone home last night to finally make sure they all got a good night's rest. Still Olivia and Amanda had come in already and were now paging through the CSU report files of Lydia's crime scene.

After spending most of last night drinking wine, bringing back memories and crying I'd finally fallen into a deep exhausted and dreamless sleep. I felt better now, refreshed, strong, determined to do anything I could to throw the bastards, who did this to Lydia, in jail for the rest of their lives. I was going to make sure I'd stay strictly professional from now on, I could not afford to lose it again in front of everyone.

I walked over to the two detectives.

"What have we got?" I asked matter-of-factly, not taking time to say hello.

Olivia looked up with a concerned frown, "How are you doing?" she asked.

I sighed, I hated when people were concerned about me or feeling sorry for me. I'd tried to avoid it as much as possible, but there was no avoiding it now, not after the way I reacted to Lydia's murder yesterday.

"I'm okay," I quickly answered.

"Alex, are you sure you want to do this, stay on this case? Maybe you should step down, let someone else take over."

"No," I answered harsher than I meant to "I'm not going to step down, not after all the work I already put into this. I'll be fine,"

"But, Alex..."

Everyone's concern really started to piss me off, "Don't 'but, Alex' me!" I shouted at her "I'm fine. Yes, I knew the victim, so what? It happens, I'm not gonna let this affect the case, okay? Just let me do my job." So much for staying professional and not losing it. I guess all of this already affected me more than I was willing to admit.

Olivia backed away, throwing her hands up in defense. "Okay, okay, but please be careful. We can't take any risks on this one. If this does get too personal for you, you have to step down."

I sighed, trying to calm myself down. I knew Olivia was only concerned for me, I had to stop biting the heads off of everyone who ever actually cared about me. "Fine," I finally answered in a softer tone "Now, how's the case going?"

Olivia send me one more concerned look but then picked up the file.

"DNA confirmed that you were right, the victim, indeed, is Lydia Bowley. As you said, she still lives in SoHo and paints for a living."

I quietly nodded. Images of Lydia flashed through my mind, painting a massive mountain landscape on the wall of our loft apartment in SoHo. It felt like ages ago, but it had only been a couple of years. Then, in an instant, the image of yesterday took over, her body naked, tortured, frozen, left to die on an abandoned parking lot.

"Alex?" Olivia snapped me back to reality "You there?"

"Yes," I nodded, again ignoring her concern "Go on."

"Apparently she did some counseling for gay teens in her free time. Wednesday evening she'd met with a 16-year-old boy at his house. According to him she walked home after. As far as we know he was the last one who has seen her alive. We haven't found any witnesses yet, not to her abduction nor the assault. CSU didn't find any useful trace evidence at all."

"The bastards are covering their tracks," I answered.

Olivia nodded, "And they are damn good at it. CSU report says that Lydia was most likely not assaulted on the parking lot, they just used it as a dump site. We are still looking for any clue of where the assault took place."

Amanda walked over carrying a file of her own, "Fin and I asked around in her neighborhood, there's no one who's seen her Wednesday night or has seen or heard anything suspicious. But that doesn't mean anything, this is New York, not exactly quiet at night. Anyway, we were just about to watch the security camera footage of Lydia's building, at least we'll know whether she got home that night."

I nodded "Let's do that."

The three of us sat down around the flat screen and the grainy footage of the street in front of Lydia's building filled the screen. We all stared at the screen as Amanda fast-forwarded through he footage.

"Wait, stop!" I said, after nearly an hour of nothing. Amanda paused the footage.

"That's Lydia," I pointed at a short redhead carrying two grocery bags. It didn't matter how grainy the image was, I was sure it was Lydia. Amanda pressed play and we saw Lydia put down the bags to open the door to the building. But then two men suddenly walked towards the the front door as well, grabbing her from behind, one sliding a hand over her mouth. I saw Lydia struggle in their arms. She managed to kick one in the groin and he slumped to the ground. She fought herself out of the other guy's grasp and ran. I held my breath and tears burned in my eyes. Even though I knew how it had ended, I still found myself hoping that she would make it, that she would somehow escape. But then more men appeared and were closing in on her. One of them punched her in the face over and over again until she slumped to the ground. He easily picked her up and they disappeared from the screen."

All three of us were silent. I felt the stares of Amanda and Olivia on me, but I refused to meet their eyes. Somehow I managed to hold myself together, even though I was screaming on the inside. I looked at the screen angrily, the street now empty again.

I finally looked up. "So what time was that? When that happened?"

"11 PM," Amanda answered. "Dr. Warner estimated time of death between 3.30 and 5 in the morning, so at least we have that time frame to work with. Now we just have to find out where they took her and what happened between 11 and the moment she was dumped."

"And nail the assholes who did this to her." Olivia quickly added.

I nodded, trying to stop my mind from filling in the blanks. "Great work." I said and forced a little smile on my face. Then I quickly grabbed my stuff to escape to the privacy of my office.

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Before going to my own office I decided to stop by the city morgue.

"Melinda?" I asked after knocking, but no answer came. I entered, there were two bodies on the metal tables in the middle of the room, both covered with white sheets.

I walked further and glanced at the name tags attached to the toes. One was a Jane Doe, but the other one said "Lydia Bowley" and also included her sex, age, race, height, weight, the address of the parking lot where she was found and the case number.

With shaking hands I removed the white sheet from her face. Even though I'd already seen her at the parking lot it was still a shock to, again, see her like this. This woman who once had been full of life and joy and happiness was now so pale and still on a sterile metal table.

Melinda had washed most of the blood away, which, at least, made it look a little less gruesome. But her face was still covered with cuts, bruises and cigarette burns. I grabbed Lydia's pale hand, the coldness sending a shiver down my spine.

I gently rubbed my thumb over her hand, unconsciously trying to warm it. I stared at her face desperately trying to see if the woman I once loved was still inside. The more I looked, the harder it became, she didn't look like Lydia anymore, she looked like an empty shell, a fragment of who she once had been.

This was the woman who tought me have fun. She was the one who taught me not to be so serious all the time. Even after we had broken up I'd missed her so much that I couldn't even image to ever love anyone the way I'd loved her. And, I guess, I always thought that maybe it wasn't over for ever, we just needed a break, maybe we would get together again. The pale cold body right there in front of me shattered that last bit of hope completely.

I jumped as the door suddenly opened and Melinda came in carying a file. She saw me and stopped in her tracks.

"Sorry," she said, compassion clear in her voice "I'll give you a moment." and she started to turn around.

"No," I quickly said "It's okay, you don't have to leave."

She walked to my side and put a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked. I nodded, my vision still blurry with unshed tears.

"She meant a lot to you, didn't she?" Melinda gently asked.

I stayed quiet, not wanting to jeopardize loosing this case by admitting how close I was to the victim. I cringed at my own thoughts, was that how I really thought of Lydia? A victim?

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell anyone." Melinda said as if she'd read my mind.

I gave a little nod, barely visible. "I loved her." I whispered, letting a tear roll down my cheek.

I glanced at Melinda. I'd never come out as a lesbian at work, but I was sure the ME was putting the pieces together now. If she was shocked about it she did a good job at not showing it, she just stayed quiet and gently rubbed my back.

I swallowed and finally brought up the guts to ask "So... what was cause of death?" I knew I needed to hear from Melinda, I didn't want to find out through some impersonal description in a file.

She send me an are-you-sure-look, and I gave her a quick nod. She pulled the sheet further down uncovering Lydia's stomach.

"She's suffered some massive blood loss." Melinda pointed at two huge gashes across Lydia's stomach "As well as some internal bleeding. It's impossible to tell which of the two eventually caused her death."

I sighed, "She suffered," it wasn't a question, I knew.

"I'm sorry," Melinda simply said.

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Casey's POV

I sighed as I glanced at the growing stack of folders on my desk, I surely wasn't going anywhere anytime soon that night. Since Alex Cabot was busy on the gang murders, I got everything else not gang related. Most of these were relatively small things: indecent exposure, a guy groping women in the subway, stuff that could be handled quickly without a trial, but that didn't mean I didn't have to suffer though the endless stacks of paperwork.

Even though at first I thought SVU wasn't for me, I'd learned to love my job. The endless paperwork, though, was a part of the job I could have done very well without.

As I reached for the next file my elbow bumped against my desk and I winced as the cut started to sting, but then I smiled as I remembered how gently Alex had taken care of the small wound. I could still feel where her soft fingers had rubbed the antibiotic creme almost tenderly. I was actually surprised she hadn't noticed how my heart had sped up when she touched me, how I had blushed and how I had joked to hide my discomfort.

God, I realized, I was gonna be in so much trouble, it'd be just like me to get a crush on the most perfect and unreachable person in the world. Maybe it was actually good that she'd turned me down for coffee.

Also, it was not like she was the sweetest and nicest person around. Sure she had been really sweet when she had tended to the scratch on my elbow. And I had to admit that I didn't really know her very well, but I knew her reputation and I knew the icy glare she wore as she paced the hallways of the building, as if she was always on a mission. And maybe she was, but I couldn't help but believe, that somewhere, deep underneath the icy layer, there was a loving kind woman who was just passionate about what she did.

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**So... I decided to start writing from Casey's point of view as well because I think I'm gonna need it further in the story, also I wanted to show you the story from both sides.**

**Please tell me what you think? I wasn't really sure about the Casey part and about how she really feels, so I tried to make it work, but I'm not really sure if it's any good.**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, finally an update again. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review. I love you guys!**

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"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Petrovsky asked.

I felt my heart pounding in my throat. It didn't matter how many trials there had been in the past, how many people I had prosecuted, this moment still made me nervous. I dreaded this, especially that day. This wasn't just anyone on trial, this was Ricky Jessup, member of the gang that had raped, tortured and murdered Lydia.

Jessup had to be found guilty, I didn't know what I would do if he wasn't. He deserved to rot in jail for the rest of his life, together with all of his buddies.

I bit my lip as the juror, a tall man with dark curly hair, stood up.

"We have, your honor," He answered as he unfolded the piece of paper in his hands, "We find the defendant... guilty on all counts."

All air escaped my lungs and I smiled. At least one of the gang members was getting the punishment he deserved.

Two officers went to Jessup's side and started to cuff him, but he violently pulled himself out of their grasp and rushed in my direction. I quickly backed away, nearly tripping over my own feet, until I bumped into the desk behind me.

"You bitch!" He shouted "You will regret this! I can promise you that!"

He was only a foot away from me when an officer tackled him to the ground, cuffed his hands behind his back and aggressively pulled him to his feet. Jessup grimaced as the officer twisted the cuffs behind his back, but he kept shouting at me.

"This is your fault, you stupid bitch! You will regret this! You hear me? You will regret this!"

As Jessup was pushed out of the courtroom I quickly grabbed my suitcase and moved to leave. I looked at the defense table where Roger Kessler was looking at me, he smirked, but didn't say anything. I looked away, I didn't have the energy to deal with him right now. I just wanted to go home and have a long hot bath.

As I walked out of the courtroom I felt a hand on shoulder. I turned around to find Petrovsky behind me.

"Are you okay, Alexandra?" She asked.

My heart immediately started pounding, how much did she know? Did she know about my connection to Lydia? I didn't think anyone beside the SVU team knew. If Petrovsky knew about it I was going to be in trouble, all of my cases concerning this gang would be jeopardized. I quickly tried to hide my uneasiness.

"Yes." I nodded "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just got threatened by a serial rapist and murderer."

I sighed in relief, Petrovsky didn't know about Lydia. I smiled.

"Yes, I'm okay. It's not the first time I have been threatened in court, occupational hazard, I guess."

Petrovsky nodded and gave me a sad smile, "Just be careful, Alexandra," she said.

I nodded and turned to leave.

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It had been a long day in the courtroom and I was absolutely exhausted. But, sadly, before I could go home and take that nice hot bath, I had still some paperwork to do. As I went outside, the cold was like a slap in my face. I walked down the icy steps of the courthouse, trying not to slip in my heels.

Apparently the cold hadn't kept the press away today. Immediately as I reached the bottom of the stairs camera crews surrounded me, microphones were pressed into my face and questions were shouted.

"What do you think of today's trial? Are you proud of your work?" A man in front of me asked as his microphone nearly collided with my chin. I glared at him and pushed the thing away.

"When are you going to be prosecuting the other suspect, Jake Fowler? Do you believe he is guilty?" A lady in a suit shouted.

"Are you taking action to arrest any of the other gang members? A sting operation maybe?"

I ignored all of the questions and cameras and kept my fast confident stride, but they didn't just leave me alone.

"Does SVU have any other suspects in custody?"

"Don't you think this trial did more harm than good? Are you expecting any more attacks any time soon?"

"I heard Ricky Jessup threatened you in court, do you fear any revenge actions as a result of today's trial?"

I grunted, "No Comment!" I shouted as roughly pushed myself through the crowd and hailed a cab.

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It was quiet at the office and for the first time that day I was finally able to relax. I threw off my shoes and sat down on the couch, my laptop in my lap and going through my e-mail. There was a soft knock on my door and, Jennifer, my secretary, entered, holding a stack of files.

"Congratulations on today's trial, I heard you nailed the bastard." she said as she put the files on my desk.

I smiled, Jennifer's enthusiasm was always a bit contagious, no matter how tired I was. It was quite a blessing to have someone working here who still had a positive look on life. After everything we saw on a daily basis most of us had lost whatever positivity we had left.

"Thank you," I answered.

"You got some phone calls while you were away." Jennifer said as she pulled pulled out a post-it note, "Some guy named Waller from USA Today wants a comment on the Jessup trial and Fox News asked if you are available for any interviews."

I sighed, great, the usual stuff. "Don't they ever learn? Please just tell them 'no comment!'" Jennifer nodded.

"Anything else?" I asked making Jennifer suddenly turn serious, while she hesitantly bit her lip.

"Yes," she finally answered, "Cutter wants to talk to you first thing Monday morning."

I grimaced. That couldn't mean anything good.

"He didn't sound too happy." she said "Is something going on?"

I sighed, "Maybe, but it's nothing you have to worry about right now."

Jennifer nodded again, not quite convinced, but she left it alone.

"That was all," she said, smiling again.

"Thanks, Jen."

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As Jennifer left I turned back to my e-mails. I started by deleting another dinner invitation by Trevor Langdon, those e-mails seemed to appear in my inbox more regularly lately. In the beginning I'd politely declined, but he didn't seem to stop, so I just started deleting the e-mails as they came. I didn't even take the time to open them anymore, the guy clearly didn't get the hind.

Besides some e-mails from the SVU detectives concerning the gang cases there was an invitation for a charity event and one more e-mail with the subject line left empty. The e-mail address said: cleanupcrew( ) , I'd never seen it before. I curiously clicked on the e-mail and big red capitol letters immediately filled my screen.

"BACK OFF!"

Just that, nothing else. I had no idea who or what this 'cleanupcrew' was, but their message was clear. It wasn't the first time that I was threatened to back off of a case, I'd gotten letters and threats before, but this was the first time I'd gotten a threat on my e-mail. Where did they get my e-mail address anyway?

I didn't even know if it was a credible threat, but I did save the e-mail, just to be sure. I shut down my computer and left the office.

As soon as I exited the building a man came rushing toward me. I jumped and froze in my tracks, my heart immediately pounding in my throat.

"Excuse me, miss Cabot." He said and pulled out a press card. I sighed in relief, I guess this case was making me pretty paranoid.

"Can I ask you some questions?" He asked.

"I can't talk about an ongoing investigation, you probably know that." I walked faster, trying to get rid of him.

"Just a couple of quick questions. Are you expecting any more attacks by the Cleanup Crew?"

I stopped and turned to him, "Cleanup Crew?" I asked.

"Yeah, I mean, that's what they started calling themselves, isn't it? You didn't know? It's in every single tabloid in the city."

I didn't answer, my mind flashed back to threat coming from cleanupcrew( ) , was it serious? Was I in danger?

The journalist didn't notice me zoning out, but his next comment immediately shot me back to reality. "So, I was told that you have a 'special' connection to the latest victim Lydia Bowley. It's true you once were in a relationship with her, right?"

"Who told you that?" I snapped, a wave of both rage and fear washing over me.

"A source who prefers to remain anonymous. So it's true?"

"I didn't say that, now back off and leave me alone!"

I roughly pushed him away, hailed the next cab driving by and told the driver to take me to a bar, any bar.

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CASEY'S POV

After a long day at the office, mostly filled with paperwork I quickly walked through the snow towards my favorite Irish pub. It was Friday night and I didn't have any plans, but to just go home and go to bed early seemed a little bit too pathetic, so I entered McSorley's Old Ale House instead.

It was pleasantly warm in the pub. It smelled of sweat and beer, but I liked it that way. Unlike most attorneys I actually didn't like to hang out in fancy lawyer bars. After a long day of work, like today's, I longed for anything but lawyer talk and fancy drinks. Here I could just be myself, enjoy a beer, watch a game of pool or darts and listen to the stories of drunk locals, which got crazier with every drink.

I sat down at the bar and ordered a Guiness. While sipping I looked around. I smiled at two obviously drunk men placing bets on their next darts game. I was pretty sure neither of them would even be able to hit the board considering the state they were in.

Then someone at the end of the bar caught my eye. And I was instantly convinced my brain was playing tricks on me, it couldn't be true, could it? I discretely send another glance in the blonde lady's direction. Not that I necessarily had to be discreet, by the way she was staring into space and mindlessly playing with an half-empty whiskey glass, I was pretty sure she was far far away. But I was right, it really was her.

I picked up my drink and carefully walked in her direction. I didn't know whether she wanted to be disturbed, but I couldn't just sit there and watch her like that. I quietly sat down on the stool beside her, she still didn't look up.

"Hey," I gently said, my voice hardly audible over the drunken shouts and Irish music. After a few seconds she finally looked up and sad eyes locked on mine.

"So," I said, "What brings the famous Alex Cabot to McSorley's Old Ale House?"

She forced a smile on her face, but her eyes didn't smile along.

"I needed a drink," She simply said, not offering any other explanation.

I looked at her, the silence between us starting to feel awkward. I searched for something to say to her, but I realized that I really didn't know this mysterious woman at all. I came here to avoid lawyer talk and I could only assume that she did as well, but I couldn't come up with anything else.

"I heard you nailed Ricky Jessup." I finally said, disappointed with myself for actually bringing up the case that probably was the main reason Alexandra Cabot was sitting in a pub drinking whiskey by herself.

She gave a quick nod, finished the last bit of her whiskey and immediately waved at the bartender to order another one.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Sure," She answered, a little bit too quickly, maybe trying to fool herself as well.

We, again, were quiet for a couple of minutes. Alex returning to stare at her drink.

"You know..." I hesitantly broke the silence, afraid that anything I said would push the blonde even further away. "I know we don't know each other very well, but you look like something's bothering you and... well, I'm a good listener, so, no pressure or anything, but if you want to talk..."

Alex sighed, probably debating whether she was going to talk or continue to keep silent. She took another sip of her drink, but didn't say anything.

"It's about this victim, isn't it?" I carefully asked, "What's her name? Lydia Bowley?"

Alex's head immediately shot up, shock and fear clear in her, normally so confident, eyes.

"Who told you about that?" she quickly asked.

I bit my lip, knowing the honest answer would be the wrong one right now. Rumors often spread through the office like wildfire. No one really knew for sure about the connection between Alex and the victim, but that didn't stop them from speculating.

"No one will hear anything from me." I assured her, hoping she would open up.

"Apparently everyone already does." She said after taking another sip of her whiskey.

"Look, Casey..." Alex said, finally turning to look at me, "I really appreciate it, but I'm not really great company right now."

I nodded, understanding it would take a whole lot more than a couple of drinks and a kind voice to pry anything loose from the great Alex Cabot.

"Than we don't talk," I answered, waving at the bartender to get me another beer, "We'll just drink."

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**So, please tell me what you think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**As some of you probably know I am doing NaNoWriMo this year and I decided to write 50.000 words on this story. Unfortunately the speed NaNoWriMo does make me write a whole lot of crap as well, so most of what I have written needs some serious editing before I post it. But I didn't want to keep everyone waiting the entire month, so here is an update.**

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CASEY'S POINT OF VIEW:

I woke up with a slight headache, at first not quite remembering why that was. But then my mind flashed back to last night at the pub with Alex. Obviously Alex had not been there just to go and have a good time, and it nearly broke my heart to see the normal so put-together attorney so withdrawn and fragile. But if what I'd heard was true, and Alex, indeed, had been in a relationship with the latest victim, I couldn't blame her for being sad and distant, especially considering Alex was usually quite distant to begin with.

But if all those stories about her were true it also meant that Alex was going to be in serious trouble if she kept on prosecuting these cases. I understood that she just wanted to make these assholes pay for what they did to her ex-girlfriend, but at this point that could mess things up badly.

I didn't yet know a whole lot about Alex Cabot, but what I did know was that she was one of the most stubborn ADAs out there and there was no way that she was going to step down on this one by herself, not until she was forced to, and that was exactly what I feared for her.

As I ate my breakfast and paged through the newspaper I couldn't help but, again, let my mind wander of to the blonde ADA. I had been more than a little surprised that of all the bars and pubs in New York City, most of them way more classy than McSorely's Old Ale House, Alex had somehow chosen my favorite pub. I was not really the spiritual new-agy kind of girl, but somehow it felt like it was more than just a coincidence that we met like that last night.

Something I couldn't believe last night was that, even though she had looked withdrawn, exhausted and at least a little bit drunk, she had still been absolutely beautiful. I had barely been able to keep my eyes off her.

I had to admit that, over the past years, Alex Cabot had been making me kind of nervous. It had been anything but easy for me to follow in her footsteps after she "died". I could only hope to live up to everyones expectations after they had worked with Alex for so long.

And when I had to prosecute Liam Connors, with Alex there as the victim, there had been an enormous pressure weighing me down. This was the man that had shot everyone's beloved ADA, so losing was not an option. I do know, the only reason we did win was because of Alex. It had all been her work, not mine. And despite Connors's conviction I had very much felt like a failure.

So when I was asked to fill my former position as an ADA with the SVU again, I had been reluctant to accept at first. I loved the Special Victims Unit, I loved the detectives and the work, but I was going to be sharing the work with Alex Cabot and I could already imagine how I was always going to be compared to her.

But in the end I'd finally decided that I was too old to still be acting like a jealous teenager. I was not Alex Cabot and I was never going to be, but that was okay. I knew that I was good at what I did and I was too passionate about prosecuting to give it up forever. So I returned and I was glad I did, even though Alex still made me nervous.

But over the past few days something had happened. It had been right then, when we had nearly tackled each other in the hallway, that suddenly my breath had hitched in my throat when she'd touched me to help me up. I'd started rambling and joking just to cover my nerves, but, thankfully, she hadn't noticed. She'd been too occupied with feeling guilty about that little cut on my elbow, her reaction had actually been quite sweet.

As I was sitting there, my uneaten breakfast in front of me, I gently touched my now-healed elbow, closing my eyes as I could still feel where her, slightly cold hands, had touched me.

Something had happened that moment. I think it was because for the first time I didn't see the Ice Queen everyone made her out to be. That was the first time I saw her as a human, just a fellow woman and co-worker who felt incredibly guilty for making me trip. And all of a sudden I saw how beautiful and gentle she really was and my nerves had calmed.

Then when I saw her at the pub, sitting there all by herself, silently drowning her pain in alcohol, it had nearly broken my heart. I didn't know what I would say to her when I walked over, but I'd felt like I had to do something. There had to be some way I could take away at least a little bit of her pain. But, of course, I soon found out that Alex was not just going to open up to me like that. I would have to win her trust first, but I was willing to do that, for sure.

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As I mindlessly turned to the next page of my newspaper I was immediately snapped back to reality when a picture of the woman I had just been thinking about filled at least half the page. The header to the article made my blood run cold.

_LESBIAN ADA WITHHOLDS RELATIONSHIP WITH LATEST CLEANUP CREW VICTIM_

_NEW YORK CITY - Yesterday our reporters discovered some disturbing news about Manhattan's Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot. Apparently the ADA is knowingly endangering yesterday's conviction against gang banger Ricky Jessup, member of the radical homophobic gang 'The Cleanup Crew', as well as any future trials against the young men who raped, tortured and murdered several members of the LGBT community. _

_A credible source told us Miss Cabot not only had a personal connection to the gang's latest victim, Lydia Bowley, but the ADA had been in a romantic relationship with the victim for many years. As far as our source knew Miss Cabot had not disclosed any of this information to neither Manhattan's District Attorney nor to judge Petrovsky and continued on prosecuting the case. When confronted about this information ADA Cabot refused to comment but did not deny that, in fact, she had been in a relationship with Miss Bowley._

_It is not yet clear if anything will be changed about yesterday's ruling against Ricky Jessup. His attorney, Roger Kressler, states that he is "Repulsed by ADA Cabot's withholding of such critical information" and is going to call in a motion for mistrial, due to the ADA's clear conflict of interest. It is very rare for a judge to declare mistrial after a defendant is already found guilty, but Mr. Kressler is hopeful the motion will be granted._

_"Because Alexandra Cabot is clearly a homosexual, like all of the victims, there would already be a conflict of interest even if she and the victim had not been lovers." Kressler states, "But to, on top of that, keep a romantic relationship with the victim like this a secret... All I can say is that ADA Cabot had no business prosecuting that case against my client yesterday and I will make sure she will pay for this repulsive behavior."_

By the time I finished reading the article my hands were shaking and all blood had been drained from my face. How could they do this to Alex? She clearly already was going through enough, I could only imagine what she would feel like finding this article in the Times this morning.

Even if it had been wrong for her to still prosecute this case against Ricky Jessup, she did absolutely not deserve to be treated this way. She had obviously always kept her personal and professional life very separated and I was pretty sure she had never told anyone at work that she was a lesbian. And to be outed publicly like this... It certainly wasn't Alex who was "repulsive" right now. This was horrific.

I went back and forth trying to decide what to do. I wondered if Alex had already read the damn article. If she hadn't, someone had to warn her about it, I didn't want her to just stumble upon it unprepared. But was it my job to call her about it? I hardly knew her, I didn't even have her phone number. And I didn't know if Alex would very much appreciate it if I would be the one warning her about this. I had already invaded her personal life last night and I could imagine she probably hadn't been too happy about it. But I couldn't just leave it alone, I had to warn her, I had to prepare her for that horrible article.

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I reached for the phone and called Jennifer, a good friend of mine, whom I also knew to be Alex's secretary. She picked up on the second ring.

"Jennifer Baylor" she said sounding extremely tired. It wasn't until then I realized it was only seven thirty on a Saturday morning. I must have woken her for sure.

"Jen, It's Casey," I said "I'm really sorry for waking you so early, but I need a favor, it's really important."

"Okay, it better be worth it, though," she warned me, sounding much more awake by now, "What can I do for you?"

"I need the phone number of Alex Cabot, her home number."

"That's why you had to wake me up from a really amazing dream involving a very handsome muscular..."

"Jen! Please!"

"Okay, okay, I'll look it up for you, may I at least ask why?"

I hesitated, Jennifer was a good friend of mine, and I was sure she was going to find out sooner or later.

"Casey?" She asked, sensing my hesitation "What's wrong?"

"You got the Times already?" I asked

"Yes," She said quizzically

"Page five,"

It was silent for a couple of seconds, except for the sound of Jennifer paging through the paper.

"Oh my God," I finally heard, barely audible

"I know," I sighed

"Does she know?"

"That's why I need her number, someone has to warn her before she sees that article. I saw her yesterday night at a bar, she looked like hell, if she finds this out..."

"God," Jennifer whispered again "This is bad."

"Yes, but if you could please..."

"Oh, yes, the phone number." She said and stated the number while I quickly scribbled it down.

"Thank you, Jen, I owe you."

"And I will collect." She answered, trying to get both of us in a somewhat lighter mood.

I looked at the number, feeling nerves quickly rising in my throat. It was now or never, though. With shaking hands I dialed the numbers, double-checking them before punching the call button.

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ALEX'S POINT OF VIEW:

I cursed as Jackie woke me up suddenly jumping onto my bed. I pushed him away but then heard what had caused him to wake me in the first place. The loud rings of my phone send waves of pain through my aching head. I quickly stepped out of my bed and swallowed away the slight nausea.

"Hello?" I answered with a hoarse voice while trying to wipe the sleep out of my eyes.

"Alex?" I heard a hesitant voice at the other end. The voice sounded familiar but my hung-over sleep-drunk head couldn't quite place it.

"Yes?"

"It's Casey, I'm really sorry if I woke you up, but it's important." That was when the events of last night started to come back to me. I had been at some random dark smoke-filled pub trying to drink away the events of last week. I don't know how it happened, but somehow Casey suddenly had been there. We might have talked, but if we had, I couldn't remember it.

"Alex?" I heard at the other end of the line. "You there?"

"Y... Yes, sorry, I think I might have had a drink to much last night. Do I remember it right? You were there with me?"

It stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, "Yes, I was," She finally answered, but she did not elaborate on what did or did not happen.

"So, what's wrong?" I finally asked, remembering her saying that she had to tell me something important.

"Have you seen the New York Times yet?" She asked, for some reason sounding nervous.

"No, I just woke up. It's Saturday morning, what is so important that can't wait till Monday?"

"I didn't want you to read the Times unprepared."

"Unprepared for what? Casey, what the hell is going on?" She apparently was trying to avoid a certain topic and it was really starting to annoy me. I hardly knew this woman. So yes, apparently I spend last night with her and I don't remember what happened or what I said but why does she feel obliged to call me on my home phone on a Saturday morning to then talk about a subject she clearly does not want to talk about?

"Alex..." I heard her sigh, but then her voice sounded stronger, more in control "I don't want to upset you or anything, but they wrote about you in the Times and it's not good."

"What?" I asked after a couple of seconds when I let the words sink in.

Still holding my phone I rushed to my front door grabbing the newspaper out of my mailbox. Casey apparently heard what I was doing because she simply said: "Page five,"

I nervously paged through the newspaper, not caring when the edge cut through the skin of my finger, leaving a little smudge of blood on the corner of the page, the same page an over-sized picture of myself was now staring back at me.

I gasped as the big black letters above my picture nearly screamed at me: LESBIAN ADA WITHHOLDS RELATIONSHIP WITH LATEST CLEANUP CREW VICTIM

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**Please let me know what you think. I really appreciate your opinions! I'm really unsure about this chapter and the ones still to come. Do you guys think that the drama is becoming too much? I'd really love to know.**


	7. Chapter 7

**This is going to be a short one and I guess a little bit of a filler. I struggled with this chapter for a long time and finally decided to just post it and move on.**

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I held my breath and my hands started to tremble as I quickly skimmed through the article. Tears of anger burned in my eyes. How could they? I had always been so careful to hide my sexuality, especially from my professional life. I'd heard too often that coming out, for someone in my field, meant the end of their career, so I'd always kept it to myself, which wasn't too hard because I was usually too busy to date anyway.

But with this... This was bad. Now the entire city knew I was gay and everyone I worked with would find out. I could already imagine the hurt on Olivia's face. Even though I considered her my best friend, I had never told her I was gay and now she would find out, not through me, but through world's most famous newspaper.

But I had an even bigger problem than being outed in public. Kressler knew about my relationship with Lydia, and soon judge Petrovsky, Michael Cutter and everyone else in New York City would know too. I knew I had been wrong to continue prosecuting against this gang, I knew I should have stepped down, but I couldn't. I had been blinded by the overwhelming rage and grief and wanted nothing more than to catch the bastards who did this to Lydia. I'd made up the excuse that I would not let this affect my professionality, and actually believed it myself. How could I have let things go so incredibly wrong, and now it could cost me everything.

"Alex?" Casey's voice snapped me back to reality. I'd forgotten I was still on the phone, but I didn't know what to say, how to react. For a person who was making a living with words, I was embarrassed to find out that when it came down to it, I could not find them at all.

Casey seemed to sense what I was feeling though, "I'm so sorry, Alex," she said, "I know it wasn't really my job to call you about this, but I wanted to warn you, I didn't want you to come across it accidentally."

I nodded, my brain apparently not aware that Casey couldn't see me.

"Are you okay?" She asked. Rage still coursed through me, of course I was not okay, I wanted nothing more but to snap at her, but I managed to hold it back. This was not Casey's fault. As a matter of fact, the only one who was to blame for this was me, it was my own damn fault.

"Alex..." Casey said again, "Please say something." Desperation clear in her voice.

"W... What do you want me to say?" I whispered, squeezing my hands into fists so hard that I felt my nails bury into my skin.

"Well, is there anything I can do for you? Maybe come over, or go and have some coffee, just talk?"

"No," I quickly said, harsher than I meant to. I took some deep breaths to calm myself down. Casey didn't do anything wrong. In fact, she just called me on a Saturday morning to warn me about this. Someone who only knew me from passing by in the hallways was worried about me, she was the last person who deserved to be snapped at. But as much as I longed for some company right now, someone to talk to and to just let everything out that was bothering me, I couldn't burden Casey with that. I didn't need her pity and I could take care of my own problems perfectly well, I always had.

"Casey, it's just..." I said with a softer tone, "This is just something I need to take care of myself. I got myself into this mess, it's my job to fix it. Also I don't think it would be a good idea to go out in public right now. The press is already having a field day right now, I don't think I should be going out right now, especially..." I sighed, not wanting to hurt Casey's feelings.

"Especially with a woman," Casey finished my sentence as if she were reading my thoughts. I knew, after everything that had been written about me, the press would immediately draw conclusions if I would go out with a woman right now, and I couldn't do that, and I certainly couldn't do that to Casey,

"I understand, Alex, It's okay." I heard Casey say. That was the second time I'd turned her down.

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I threw my phone on the coffee table and let myself slump back into my couch, my head resting in my hands. I tried to take some long deep breaths to calm myself down. Rage was still coursing through me, I was so incredibly angry, angry at the damn reporter who wrote that filthy article, angry at Kressler, angry at the assholes who went around and tortured and murdered innocent people and most of all, angry at myself for losing sight of everything and screwing this up completely.

I sighed as I stroked my hand through Jackie's grey fur, he was purring gently in my lap, looking up at me with his big dark eyes as if he understood exactly how I was feeling.

It were times like these, times where the job turned into so much more than just a job, moments where I started to question everything, where I came pretty close to losing my faith in humanity and even losing faith in myself. It were those times when I truly realized how isolated I'd gotten. I wanted nothing more than to have someone to talk to, someone to wrap their arms around me and tell me that everthing was gonna be okay, exactly the way my father used to do before he passed away when I was fifteen.

I looked at my phone, Casey's words echoeing in my head, she was just a call away. But I couldn't, I would have to take care of this myself, I couldn't burden Casey with it.

Jackie looked up at me again and I sadly smiled at him, "I guess it's just gonna be the two of us." I sad as I rubbed his soft fur.

I laid back on the couch falling back into a restless, but exhausted slumber, but then the buzz of my cell phone made me jump up quickly. Jackie looked up in shock at the sudden movement, jumped off my lap and ran to the kitchen.

"Alex Cabot," I said, surprised that I could somehow manage my strong confident courtroom voice.

"Yes, miss Cabot, this is Carl Wincer from the Post, I was wondering..."

My heart skipped a beat, "How did you get this number?" I interrupted him.

"I have my sources. But is it true..."

"No comment!" In nearly shouted into my phone, "Stop calling this number or you'll be charged for harrassment!", I hung up, not waiting for his answer.

Immediately my phone started buzzing again, but I turned it off without even looking who it was. I didn't feel like talking to anyone right now.

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Monday came way too fast. It was almost embarrassing how nervous I was when I knocked on the door of Michael Cutter's office.

"Come in," I heard the the low grumpy voice of Cutter, a voice I feared so much right now.

I quietly entered, avoiding eye contact with my boss as I sat down.

"Alexandra," he said. I finally forced myself to look up at him.

"I don't even know where to start." He said as the closed a folder on his desk, "How do you think you were gonna get away with this?"

I brought up my shoulders with a sigh, "I didn't, really," I admitted.

"Do you realize how serious this is? Roger Kressler filed a motion for mistrial against Ricky Jessup. A man who tortured, raped and murdered several people might be acquitted because of your foolish actions."

I knew it was the truth, but the words, coming from my boss, still stung.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, "I really had no idea..."

"When did you find out your ex-lover was the victim?" He interrupted me, a look of disdain crossing his face when he said the word 'lover'.

"With all due respect, sir," I angrily snapped at him, nearly shouting, the 'Ice Queen' in me quickly returning, "She was more than just my lover, she meant everything to me, I loved her."

"With all due respect, Alexandra, you didn't answer my question."

"I found out Wednesday," I answered coldly. If Cutter was gonna be cold to me, than I could be cold to him. "I went to the crime scene with detectives Rollings and Tutuola. We were called to an abandoned parking lot where a possible gang-victim had been found. The victim..." I went on coldly, trying to avoid any images of Lydia's beaten body from spinning through my mind. As long as I stayed cold and matter-of-factly, I could do it, I could detach myself from all of this and pretend it was just any case.

"The victim," I continued, "did not have any ID on her, she was a Jane Doe at the time. I did not know in advance that she, in fact, was Lydia Bowley. When we arrived at the crime scene, I recognized her and ID-ed her.

"And you decided what?" Cutter asked angrily, "That there was no conflict of interest? That you could just stay on this case and get away with it?" he pauzed and sighed, "You are a good prosecutor, Alexandra, one of the best out here. I thought that of all people, you were the one who knew when to step down. I expected more of you."

I swallowed, staring down at the carpet, knowing perfectly well he was right. How I wished a hole would appear in the ground right there, right that moment, so I could disappear in it and suffer quietly on my own.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, quietly, any coldness seeping away.

We were both quiet for a moment, I nervously watched Cutter, he looked like he had calmed down a bit, but with Cutter you never knew.

"Okay," Cutter finally broke the silence, "This is what's going to happen... The board is going to be meeting tomorrow to decide on what's going to happen to you. Their decision is out of my hands, but I am going to recommend against suspension."

I looked up in surprise. Did he really just say he didn't want me suspended?

"But, as I said, it is only a recommendation, the final decision is the board's, not mine. You are a good attorney with a good record, hopefully they will take that into consideration. But even if you're not suspended, you have to take a leave of 've build up a decent amount of sick days over the past years, which you never acutally used, even when you clearly were sick. Use them now."

"But sir..."

"It is not a suggestion, Alexandra. You are grieving and you've been under a lot of stress lately, I am not taking any risks. Judge Petrovsky is expecting you in her chambers later today, but after that I want you to go home and take that sick leave."

"But the motion for mistrial..." I tried, but Cutter interrupted me again.

"... Is going to be handled by ADA Novak. She will take over the gang-related cases."

I sighed, wanting to protest again.

"Alex, you do realize that I'm doing you a big favor, right? All I'm asking you is to hand over the cases, step down and take a couple of weeks. ADA Novak is a good competent attorney, she's completely capable of taking over these cases. And hopefully, in a couple of weeks, the media attention and rumours will have died down a little. Of course you'll have to wait for the board's decision, but I'll try my best to control the damage. This is the best I can offer you, Alex, take it."

I gave Cutter a quick nod, "Thank you," I said softly.

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**So, I'm sorry for this sucky chapter. I'll try to make up for it the next one. I promise that one's gonna include some more Casey, possibly even some Alex/Casey sweetness. **


	8. Chapter 8

**So, I wrote a longer one this time. And, as I promised, some Alex/Casey sweetness. I hope you guys like it.**

**Also, I want you guys to know that my legal knowledge is limited, I don't know all of the regulations and procedures and stuff. So please excuse me if I got any of it wrong. **

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ALEX'S POINT OF VIEW:

It was exactly 2 pm when I was called into Judge Petrovsky's chambers. Roger Kressler entered not long after. It was hard to admit, even to myself, but I was terribly nervous. My heart was pounding in my throat and I had to try very hard to keep my hands from trembling.

"Thank you both for coming." Petrovsky said, looking at both of us sternly, her glare resting on me a little bit longer.

Kressler looked at me. He had a major smirk on his face, as if he already knew his motion was going to be granted.

I glared back, but didn't say anything. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of showing how much all of this was hurting me, what his horrible statements to the New York Times had done to me, both emotionally and professionally.

"Counselors..." Petrovsky started, "You both understand that you have put me into a very difficult position?"

"Your honor," Kressler said, "With all due respect, it wasn't me who put this entire trial into jeopardy. Miss Cabot..."

"That's enough Mr. Kressler," Petrovsky interrupted him, "I know exactly what happened. We are not here to point fingers or to accuse anyone of anything. We are simply here because you have filed a motion for mistrial and I have to make the decision whether I will grant it or not."

"But, your honor, it's because of Miss Cabot's despicable behavior that we are in this position in the first place. She had not business prosecuting my client."

I started fuming inside, even if Kressler was right, the fact that he was talking to Judge Petrovsky as if I was not even in the room was ridiculous.

Kressler continued though, "My client is entitled to a speedy trial with an objective prosecutor, not someone as prejudiced and personally involved as Miss Cabot."

Petrovksy turned to me, "Whether I like it or not, I am going to have to agree with Mr. Kressler here. You prosecuted at a trial knowingly hiding your conflict of interest."

"Your honor," I quickly interrupted, desperately, "With all due respect, when the investigation and trial against Mr. Jessup started I was not yet connected to these cases in any way. And even after my... my..." I mentally cursed myself, this was not the moment to lose it, "After my ex-girlfriend turned out to be a victim, I was still not personally invested to Mr. Jessup's trial."

"Explain yourself." Petrovsky said, her glare somewhat softening.

"The reason Mr. Jessup stood trial was because of the attack, rape, torture and murder of one person, Mark Kenn, no one else, not any of the other victims and certainly not of Lydia Bowley, who in fact was proved to be murdered after Mr. Jessup was already in the city's custody.

"You are reaching, Miss Cabot," Kressler answered, "We all know that the murders of Mark Kenn and Lydia Bowley are connected. And since you and Miss Bowley were lovers, there, in fact, was a severe conflict of interest. I can't believe you're even debating me on this. It's absolutely clear and you know it, I know it and, your honor, I'm pretty sure you know it as well."

"Mr. Kressler," Petrovsky interrupted his ranting, "What I find is my own decision, and I would very much appreciate it if you would show some respect in my chambers or I can, and will, hold you in contempt. That counts for both of you, counselors. Is that clear?"

"Yes, your honor," we both mumbled

"All I am saying," Roger Kressler continued, "Is that all of these murders, including Mr. Kenn's and Miss Bowley's, were committed by the same gang. So there is no question that they are connected, which also connects ADA Cabot and creates a severe conflict of interest in the trial of my client."

"Your honor, no suspects have been arrested yet in Miss Bowley's murder, the investigation is still ongoing. Unless Mr. Kressler knows something I don't, his statement that the two cases are related is premature. Nothing has been proved yet right now and nothing certainly had been proved while Mr. Jessup was still standing trial."

"Counselor," Petrovsky moved to Kressler, "Can you or can you not prove a connection between the murder of Mark Kenn and the murder of Lydia Bowley at this moment?"

"No, I can't, your honor," He said, defeatedly.

"Than I have made my decision." Petrovsky stated, "While I deplore the Assistant District Attorney's actions, I am forced to agree with Miss Cabot, I have found no reasonable grounds to grant your motion for mistrial. The motion for mistrial is denied, there will be no retrial and Mr. Jessup will stay in prison to serve his full sentence, that is my final decision."

Kressler gave a short nod, looking angry. He quickly turned and left the room without saying anything.

I moved to leave as well, but Petrovsky stopped me.

"Alexandra?"

"Yes?" I turned back to her and quickly my earlier nerves returned, making me feel more like the little shy girl I used to be in junior high instead of the confident icy ADA.

"Legally Mr. Kressler doesn't have a case against you, but that doesn't mean what you did was right. These are sensitive cases, you took a big risk hiding your conflict of interest from the court, putting all of this in jeopardy. You could have gotten yourself in a lot of trouble, and you should consider yourself lucky that you didn't. But again, you have done yourself a real disgrace in my courtroom. I do not know what consequences the disciplinary board will decide you have to face, but I hope you will take your job more seriously in the future."

"Yes, your honor." I answered. I wanted to protest, but she was right, I had been lucky, incredibly lucky, so I decided to play it safe.

"I trust you will no longer be involved in any way with the prosecution of the cases against this shameful horrific gang?"

"No, your honor, ADA Casey Novak will be taking over."

"I am happy to hear that." Petrovsky answered, hardly looking happy at all.

She stood up and walked me to the door of her office. Her expression softened a bit and gently she put her hand on my arm.

"How are you holding up, Alexandra?" She finally asked,

"I'm okay," I answered.

She frowned at me. I guess I must have looked pretty horrible, I'd hardly slept at all over the past few days, I had not been able to get much into my stomach, except maybe alcohol and I was just overall feeling lousy. I was pretty sure I looked like hell.

"Alexandra..."

"Don't worry," I interrupted her, "Michael Cutter has pulled me off all cases and urged into sick leave, which I'm going to do, at least until I dealt with all of this."

"I am not denying that you have made a big mistake by hiding all of this, Alexandra, but I am sorry it came out the way it did. You did not deserve that."

"Thank you, Judge,"

We said our goodbyes and, with my heart still pounding in my throat I quickly left Judge Petrovsky's office.

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Before I went home on my forced sick leave I stepped by my office to get everything ready for Casey to pick up. Most of the files of the "Cleanup Crew" cases were still lying on my desk, ready to be reviewed. Lydia's file was there as well. I sat down behind my desk and opened it. A picture of her, a portrait from when she was still alive and smiling at the camera, was clipped to the first page. I took it out and stared at it. Again tears started to burn in my eyes. It had been a couple of years since she left me, but she still looked exactly the same in the picture, it was still the woman I had been in love with so much.

A lump formed in my throat and I quickly put the picture away to stop myself from crying again. I looked at the first page of the file, it simply stated facts: full name, gender, date of birth, place of birth, case number, the place where her body was found and more stuff like that. The next pages included a detailed description of all the injuries she sustained, written by Melinda. The list made me cringe, it was endless: broken legs, broken ribs, broken jaw and cheekbone, broken wrist, skull fracture, second and third degree burns all over her body, including her breasts and genitals, most likely caused by cigarettes. There were cuts and contutions all over her body, vaginal tearing, two twenty centimeter gashes across her stomach, it just went on and on. My hands unconsciously formed fists and renewed rage coursed through my body. The next pages I couldn't bare to look at, not again. They were pictures of the crime scene and Lydia's body.

The rest of the file included a detailed, but nearly clinical, description of every single piece of evidence and my own notes on the case.

I sighed as I closed the file and threw it roughly on the stack that I soon would have to hand over to Casey Novak. I felt so incredibly frustrated. I couldn't even bare to think that any of these guys, these horrible bastards, might get away with what they did to Lydia. And now I wasn't even in any power anymore to do something about it. When I was prosecuting these cases there still was a chance that I might not get every single one of these perps, but at least I was doing something about it. I was working on it, there was a goal. And now what? If I couldn't work on these cases, if I was forced to stay at home, I might as well just be a normal civilian. My work was my life and I had no idea what to do with myself if I couldn't do that work. My power lay in the courtroom, so without the courtroom, who was I?

I opened my desk drawer and threw out a couple of stacks of notes and other junk. I reached in the back, it still had to be there, somewhere, I had never brought up the guts to throw it out. It was just a stupid key ring, but it had been a present from Lydia, the first present she'd ever gotten me. Just as I was about to pull out the entire drawer and tip it over my hand touched the cold metal of the little dolphin. I let my fingers trace its familiar shape as my mind went over the memories of the day Lydia had given it to me.

She had basically kidnapped me off to Coney Island that day. It had been my last year of law school and she constantly complained that I was working too hard, that I needed to take some time to relax. She she made me skip class, something I would never have done myself, and she pulled me unto the subway to Coney Island.

It had been windy and thick dark clouds had been floating by quickly, but, thankfully it stayed dry. Lydia thought it was perfect because on a cloudy weekday like that we could at least avoid the big crowds that were always there on the sunny weekends. And even more important, now we could ride the roller coaster over and over and over again, which Lydia thought was great, and which I thought was great for the first two rides. Right after our fifth ride, when my safety bar had opened, I'd immediately rushed out of there. I'd barely made it to the nearest trash can before emptying the entire contents of my stomach in it.

Lydia could have laughed or joked or teased me and I wouldn't have blamed her if she had, but instead, she felt so guilty for making me sick. To make up for it she'd rushed into the nearest souvernir shop and bought me the dolphin key ring. She always said she bought it for me because dolphins were her favorite animals and that I, apparently, was very similar to them: smart, beautiful, gracious, but also playful (obviously that were her words, not mine). The key ring had been permanently attached to my purse for years and after we had broken up I couldn't bare to throw it out, instead I had angrily thrown it in the back of my desk drawer.

I, again, let my fingers trace the little metal dolphin, but quickly those happy memories of Coney Island changed into different ones: Lydia's body, lifeless at the parking lot, naked, bloody and cold. I roughly shook my head trying to erase those images from my mind. The woman I once loved so very much had been raped, tortured and recklessly left behind, like she was nothing more than a piece of trash. She had been left to slowly bleed to death in the freezing cold in a place where they were sure no help would come and where no one would be able to hear her screams. Meanwhile snow had been quickly coming down, covering most of her naked body.

I squeezed my hand around the key ring, trying to keep myself together, my knuckles turning white. It just took one more look at the picture on top of Lydia's case file for me to lose it completely. With all the strength I had I angrily threw the key ring at a vase of flowers in the corner of my office. The fragile glass broke into hundreds of pieces and the water quickly spread over the carpet. With my new found rage I slammed my desk drawer shut, making everything on top of my desk shake with the impact and a couple of things fell off. Then I did the most un-Cabot thing I'd ever done. I punched the wooden drawer as hard as I could. I heard a loud crack, not quite sure if it was the drawer or my hand that had made the sound.

While trying to catch my breath I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. My uncontrollable rage slowly ebbed away, suddenly making me very aware of the sharp pain in my hand. I blankly looked at it, wincing when I tried to move it. Blood was slowly trickling down my fingers, but still, in some way it felt good. I had never understood how people could turn to self harm, what drove them in the first place, but now I knew. After all the emotional pain I had been trying to keep inside for the past couple of days, this simple physical uncomplicated pain was actually quite welcoming.

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CASEY'S POINT OF VIEW:

I was a bit nervous when I softly knocked on Alex's door. I had just been told by Michael Cutter that I was going to take over all of the "Cleanup Crew" cases from Alex, and that she was going to be on sick leave. Cutter had not really explained why, but he didn't have to, I knew. And sadly, after Saturday's newspaper, everyone knew. Besically entire New York City knew about Alex's private life now and I could only imagine what tomorrow's headlines would be after Alex was publicly forced to step down on the cases that had gotten a lot of publicity anyway.

It stayed quiet at the other side of the door, though I was pretty sure Alex was in there. I knocked again, this time a bit louder. I listened carefully, but it was still quiet at the other side.

Just as I was about to call out for Alex I heard a hard smash and the sound of shattering glass, quickly followed by a BANG and some muffled groans. My heart immediately started pounding in my throat. What was going on in there?

For a couple of seconds I was frozen in place, wondering what to do. Could I just barge in there?

"Alex?" I called out. Again I heard a groan.

I didn't care anymore, I opened her door and rushed into her office.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw one one but Alex in the room. After all those noises I had immediately assumed that someone had beenin there with her and had possibly been hurting her. But then I saw Alex sitting behind her desk clutching her left hand with her right, blood slowly seeping through her fingers.

"Alex!" I again said and rushed to her side. "Alex, what happened?"

Alex sighed, but didn't say anything, she avoided looking in my eyes. I kneeled in front of her, gently took her hands in mine and uncovered her wounded one. Blood trickled out of all of her knuckles and the skin around them was already turning into a nasty shade of blue.

"Honey, this doesn't look good." I said, immediately mentally slapping myself on the head for calling her 'honey'. I guess I was lucky Alex's mind was clearly elsewhere, because if she had been in her right mind I was pretty sure she would have snapped my head off.

I looked around and saw a box of tissues on Alex's small coffee table. I stood up to take one. Alex didn't move at all, she might as well have been a statue. I, again, took her hand in mine and gently pressed the tissue against her knuckles, the blood quickly soaking the paper. Alex grimaced, I was pretty sure it was the first movement she'd made after I had rushed into her office.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

After I'd wiped some of the blood away, I, again, looked at the wounds.

"I don't think you're gonna need stitches." I said, "But it's already swollen, you should probably get an X-ray."

Alex shook her head, finally snapping back to reality. "I'm fine." she answered.

"Alex, I think we passed that point a while ago. You, clearly, are not."

She sighed again.

"What happened anyway?" I asked, still crouching next to Alex holding her hand, even though it started to feel a bit awkward by now. "Did you punch someone?"

Alex looked at me and a little smile played at her mouth. I was sure she had no idea what that little smile did to me. Butterflies fluttered around in my stomach and my heart immediately sped up like crazy. I was instantly worried that my hands, holding hers, would soon turn very sweaty.

"More like something." Alex answered my question, eyeing her desk drawer. I saw a big dent in the drawer and the wood was cracked in several places.

I grimaced, but I didn't want to sound like and accusing parent or teacher, so I decided to keep the mood as light as possible. "Poor defenseless drawer," I said, "I guess it did not stand a chance against the almighty Alexandra the great."

Alex smiled at my words.

"Let's go sit on the couch," I said, smiling back at her, "My knees are about to kill me crouching like this."

I gently took Alex's elbow and guided her to the couch. I looked around remembering the cabinet where Alex had taken the first aid kit from whenshe had taken care of my elbow. I quickly took it and sat back down next to Alex.

I opened the first aid kit and took out some antiseptic cream.

"You don't have to." Alex started to complain.

"I know," I answered, "But I want to. You would have done the same thing. Actually, you already did."

Alex nodded, holding back any further complaints as I started to slowly clean the cuts on her knuckles.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked while taking out some gauze.

"If I say no, are you going to leave me alone about it?"

I bit my lip. She was probably right. I did want her to talk about it, but I also didn't want to scare Alex off. I was finally getting closer to her, she was finally starting to let me in. I didn't want to rush anything and pressure her to do something she didn't want to.

"If that's what you want." I finally answered, "But it might do you good to finally let some of it out, and not by punching some innocent inanimate object, I mean."

Alex looked away, wincing a bit as I pressed the gauze onto her hand.

"I didn't really mean to do that." She hesitantly answered, her cheeks turning red with embarrassment, "I didn't know what I was doing, I guess, I just lost it."

I looked up at her face, but she was still avoiding eye contact, "You are entitled to lose it every once in a while, you know, you are only human."

Alex nodded, letting out a sigh, "I just... I don't even know... I thought I had everything under control... and then, all of a sudden... I just really screwed up, Casey."

She was staring down at her hand which I was now carefully wrapping up with bandages. Except for that little quiet moment in the pub I had never really seen her with her guard down, I had never seen her in such a fragile and emotional state. Even when we had worked together to nail Liam Connors she had somehow managed to keep it together perfectly. But now, there were clearly cracks in her normal so professional mask.

I carefully reached out and touched Alex's face, watching her reaction carefully, I didn't want to cross any boundaries. Thankfully, she didn't flinch away.

"Things will work out." I said to her, "Maybe it doesn't feel like it right now, but eventually everything is going to be okay again. Just relax and do what you have to do and meanwhile I'll make sure that these assholes will pay for what they did to Lydia and the other victims, okay? You can trust me on that, I will do everything in my power to make them pay, I promise you that."

Alex quietly nodded, but at least she wasn't looking away anymore.

"You just go home and take some rest, just relax for a while and don't be afraid for whatever you feel. Having feelings is not the same as being weak, you know that, right?"

She didn't answer.

"No matter what anyone says, you are not made out of rock or ice and you don't have to pretend to be. No one will think any less of you if you let yourself feel something and let yourself actually grieve the woman you loved. No one will blame you for that.

"But they will blame me for my poor judgment on all of these cases. I was stupid to keep on prosecuting them. I thought I could handle it, I really did."

"I understand, I probably would have done the same thing."

"I just... don't take me wrong, it's not that I don't trust you, I just really wanted to do this for Lydia, you know."

"I do know." I answered, knowing perfectly well how hard it was for Alex to just hand over the responsibilities of the cases that were so important to her.

"You know what," I said, determined, "I can't let you help with the prosecution of these cases and sadly I can't share specific details with you, but what I can do is keep you up-to-date, make sure you know what's going on before entire New York City does."

Alex looked at me gratefully, "I'd really love that," she whispered.

I smiled at her, "Than that's a deal, you go home and take some much needed rest and I'll make sure you'll know what's going on through me, not through the Times. Actually, I don't think you should be reading that shitty newspaper at all, just let those assholes write what they want to. I am starting to get to know the real Alex Cabot and I don't believe any of the shit they write about you."

Alex smiled weakly back at me, "Thank you, Casey. Really, thank you, for everything."

"No problem at all," I said as I gently laid Alex's, now wrapped-up, hand back in her lap and stood up. "Then I guess I should be getting started on those," I said as I pointed at the files on Alex's desk. "Are those all of them?"

"No," Alex said as she got up. She picked up a file that had fallen onto the ground and carefully put it on top of the stack, staring at it for a little longer. I glanced at the name on the cover, it stated 'Lydia Bowley.' I gave her a quiet understanding nod.

"Thank you," I said to Alex as I walked towards her door. "And you should really put some ice on that hand once you get home, make sure the swelling goes down. Though I still think you should really get some X-rays."

"I'm fine," Alex assured me once again.

"I know you are." I answered, knowing perfectly well that that little sentence had probably become a mantra to her, thinking if she said it often enough she could convince herself as well.

I moved to the door, "Wait," Alex said, making me turn around. She grabbed a little card from her desk and scribbled something on it.

"So, you apparently already have my home phone number, but you can always reach me on my cell." She said as she handed me the card. It had both her cell phone number and her e-mail address on it. I gratefully took it.

I moved to the door trying to balance the big stack of files in one hand so I could open the door with the other. Alex rushed to my side.

"Let me help you with that." She said and she opened the door for me.

"Thanks," I said again.

"No, thank you!" Alex answered.

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**So tell me what you think about this chapter. I'd really like to know. Was there too much drama? Do you think Petrovsky was to soft and easy on Alex?**


	9. Chapter 9

**I am so sorry that I didn't update this story any sooner. I got completely stuck on how I wanted the story to continue and had lots of trouble writing a next chapter. So this one turned out to be a bit of a filler, but at least it got me writing again and hopefully I will now be able to keep it up.**

**Thank you to all of you readers, reviewers and people who are following and favoriting it, you really keep me going during writer's blocks like these.**

**Also, I promise, no matter how long it takes to get through my writer's blocks, I will not leave any of my stories unfinished.**

**So, enough rambling, here's the next chapter, finally.**

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Alex's point of view:

It was past midnight, but I was still lying on my couch, some mindless TV show I wasn't even paying attention to running in the background. Jackie was silently snoring in my lap and an ice packet lay on my throbbing hand. I sighed, desperately trying to get all of my fears and worries and pain out of my mind. I felt exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. My mind just kept spinning over everything that happened over the past couple of days.

I could hardly even imagine anymore how, just a little while ago everything had been normal. Things in my life had been going well, not great, but well. And it just took this one case, this one case that I had not been prepared for in the least to mess up everything. I couldn't imagine that that was just a little over a week ago. After all of those endless work hours and sleepless nights it seemed so long ago that things were normal, when I would be home, able to relax for the night, before sundown. When I would hang out with the detectives and celebrate after winning a hard case, when I wouldn't stay up all night, drinking, worrying, feeling guilty and grieving the loss of a woman I actually already lost years ago. I wondered how it all got to this, how just this one simple case turned into the one that would change my life forever.

Maybe Cutter had been right to put me on sick leave. I was not feeling sick, but to say that I was feeling a bit worn was an understatement. I was exhausted, I had a permanent throb behind my eyes and just the thought of Lydia or the newspaper article or my meetings with Michael Cutter and Judge Petrovsky filled with more guilt and nausea every time.

The little red light of my answering machine was frantically blinking, I hadn't picked up the phone or listened to any messages for days. With a sigh I pushed the button, a woman's voice announcing that I had twenty-seven new messages. Five of them turned out to be from Olivia, I hadn't talked to her since before the weekend, before that horrible article had appeared in the Times. In all honesty I had avoided her, I didn't know how to explain everything to her and I felt guilty that I had never confided in her before, I know I should have. She had trusted me with her most personal stories, in exchange, I had never even told her that I was gay. The easiest thing to do at that point was to just continue to avoid her, but I knew I couldn't do that. I needed to talk to her, I owed her at least that much. I made a mental note to call her back in the morning. I figured the detectives had already been notified by now that I was stepping down and that Casey Novak would be taking over. The least thing I could do was explain.

And there was another one of my worries. Casey Novak. I didn't know how it happened, I had barely known Casey over the past years, only knew her from the occasional 'good morning' in the hallway, but something had happened in the mess of the past couple of days and I couldn't put my finger on it. I didn't know why, but it felt to me like Casey was the only person I could really talk to. There was just something about the other ADA that was incredibly calming and reassuring. I was nowhere near willing to admit it, but somehow my recent conversations with Casey made me wonder, even just a little bit, if there was any happiness for me in the future. I knew it was a selfish thought, I knew it was arrogant to assume that Casey was even the least interested in me. Hell, she probably wasn't even gay. But I couldn't help but wonder if there could ever be a woman, other than Lydia, who could make me truly happy. I don't know why, of all people, it was Casey Novak who unleashed these feelings within me, but there was just something about her. Maybe it was the energy that always radiated off her even through the worst of cases, maybe it was her positivity or her perseverance to just keep going even if the rest of the world was crumbling around her. She was obviously very caring and compassionate and still she was relentless in the courtroom. And what bothered me most about all of this was that I didn't know if I felt attracted to her because of who she was, or if I was attracted to her because she reminded me of Lydia so much.

It was infuriating, everything about Casey reminded me Lydia, even the way she moved and the way she looked. And no matter how much I loved all of those things, right now they were also hurting me, constantly reminding me of the pain I was trying to avoid feeling.

I restlessly got up from my couch, making Jackie jump out of my lap in shock. I started pacing through my living room, wondering what to do. How was I ever going to handle endless weeks feeling like this with no work to distract me? I couldn't even sleep to distract me. They were going to be some very long weeks.

Eventually I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and sat back down on the couch. Jackie hesitantly returned to my lap.

"It's okay, buddy," I said, "I won't disturb you again," He laid back down, his big eyes were curiously looking up at me. He started to lick my hand as if to comfort me and I couldn't help but smile a little.

I poured myself some whiskey and closed my eyes, hoping that a little bit of alcohol would help take the pain away from my throbbing hand and maybe even take some of the ache away that was coursing through my chest like a restless snake, poisoning me with doubt and pain with every single breath.

Before I knew it I finished my glass and poured myself a new one, and another. I don't even remember looking at the TV anymore, but I left it on anyway. The images inside my mind took over. I lost count on how many glasses I'd had, but at some point I could no longer keep my head upright and slowly passed out.

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The ringing of my cell phone startled me awake. I groaned, as I stretched my aching body and reached for the phone.

"Hello?" I asked, my hangover clouded mind not even reminding me to say my name.

"Hey, Alex," I tried very hard to place the voice, but the pounding in my head distracted me too much, So I just waited for the voice to say something.

"It's me, Olivia," I finally heard. I sighed, of course it was Olivia, who else could it be.

"Olivia," I simply said, not really knowing what to say to her, so instead I just waited for her to say what she had to say.

"How are you holding up?" I heard her concerned tone.

"Okay, I guess, considering," I answered, not really wanting to worry her any more than she was already doing.

"You don't really think I believe that, right?" She said, with a slight smile audible in her voice.

"Maybe I'll start believing it if I say it often enough." I admitted.

"I..." she said, probably looking for the right words not to cause me any more pain than I was already feeling. Even Olivia was walking on eggshells around me. I hated this, I absolutely hated it. Olivia had been my best friend from the beginning, the person I'd always felt most comfortable talking to. After a couple of bumps on the road though, my time in witness protection and then my leaving for Africa, we had not been as close anymore as we used to be, but I never experienced a moment where Olivia hadn't known what to say to me. This was the first time and I did not like it. I wish she wouldn't hesitate, that she would just say it. I didn't deserve her sympathy, I had made a lot of mistakes lately and one of them was pulling away from the only woman who had always been there for me.

"I'm really sorry, Alex," She finally said. "I..."

"You don't have to," I quickly interrupted, "This was my own fault, Olivia, please, I don't need your pity."

I heard Olivia sigh at my stubbornness. "Alex, this is not your fault and you know it, you couldn't have know this would happen and you certainly weren't the one who murdered these people."

"No, but everything that happened after that was my fault. Cutter was right to pull me off these cases and send me home. This is all on me."

I heard Olivia sigh again and a moment of silence followed

"Alex..." Olivia finally said, lowering her voice a few pitches, "You never, you never told me about Lydia. You could have told me, you know, I wouldn't have judged you, no matter what. I thought you knew that."

I sighed, I knew Olivia had every reason to be angry at me, I would have been okay with her being angry at me, but instead she sounded disappointed and knowing that I was the one who had caused that disappointment nearly brought me to tears.

"I know," I quietly answered "I'm sorry, Liv, you didn't deserve that"

"Look, Alex, I have to go right now, we just got in some new evidence. How about we meet for lunch, talk face to face."

I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from sighing too loudly, but I knew I couldn't keep avoiding Olivia forever.

"Okay," I finally said.

"So, what about I meet you at Roastown at 12.30?"

"Alright, see you there."

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Casey's point of view:

I arrived at work earlier than usual that morning, wanting to get a head start before more evidence, suspects or, God forbid, more victims would show up. I looked at the big stack of files lying on my desk. I had to study and review all of them, add my own notes, update them on anything new and meanwhile still keep an eye on the detectives. And, on top of that, I had to prosecute Jake Fowler later this week. I didn't know how I was supposed to fit all of that in the next couple of days, but I was sure as hell going to try.

These violent murders had completely shaken New York City and after everything that happened I could already feel the press breathing down my neck. I had to do this right, if not for the city and the victims, then at least for Alex. It had been hard enough for her to step down, I was sure she would never forgive me if I lost these trials after everything what happened. I needed to do this right, for the victims and their loved ones, for the city and for Alex.

I grabbed the first of the eighteen victim files. Kevin Johnson, the first victim (as far as we knew), a 22 year old college student who had been attacked exiting a building of an LGBT club. Apparently his case hadn't been added to the other ones until much later. Only after three more people had been attacked and murdered the connection between all of them had been made.

It took me hours to read file after file. I read the reports from Melinda Warner and I carefully read all the notes Alex had scribbled in the files in her incredibly neat handwriting. I added my own notes to some of them (in not so neat handwriting), but most of the files were actually perfectly organized and complete.

I had saved Lydia Bowley's file for last, I knew that one would be a hard one to read. I opened the folder and looked at the picture that was clipped to the first page. A freckled woman smiled back at me, long curly red hair reaching down to her waist. She had little lights of joy in her green eyes and her playfully crooked teeth were the whitest I'd ever seen. The woman was wearing a bright colorful scarf over a denim jacket.

I couldn't believe this was the woman Alex Cabot had been in love with. Alex was so stern, so put together, so incredibly organized and classy. This woman, from what I could tell from the picture, she was more like me, playful, messy, too much energy for her own good. She and Alex really seemed each other's opposites. All of that made me wonder about Alex, had she always been this way or had something happened to make her change? Had she once also been the crazy spontaneous playful girl before she became Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot?

The picture of Lydia made me smile, but that smile quickly disappeared with the pictures that followed in the file. A pale frozen body, bloodied, burned and bruised, the green eyes glassy and empty. My stomach twisted at the thought that that happy lively girl had been raped and tortured for hours just because she happened to be attracted to women.

I swallowed, I had never even met any of these victims and I was already disgusted and nauseated and enraged by what happened to them. I could only imagine what it felt like for Alex, having to actually find the girl she once loved like that, recklessly abandoned in the snow on a parking lot, no one should have to go through that.

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**Please tell me what you think.**


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